


Adrenaline Rush

by Sealie



Series: sga/traders [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Traders (TV 1995)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-15
Updated: 2006-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stargate Atlantis/Traders crossover no' 5 [voyage par mer segment]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adrenaline Rush

**Author's Note:**

> _**Adrenaline Rush (Stargate Atlantis/Traders xo) no 5/10**_  
>  Rating: pg  
> Spoilers: none  
> Betas: the LKY and Klostes

**Adrenaline Rush  
SGA/Traders no.5**  
by Sealie

  
“This is all your fault, major!” McKay snapped as he stomped out onto the sidewalk.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Sheppard demanded, pushing through the restaurant doors and following the scientist out into the dusky, evening light. “It was Carson who took you both into the SGC.”

“Excuse me!” Carson caught the door on the rebound, his eyes widened with consternation. “What else was I supposed to do? Let Rodney’s brain fry?”

“It’s your fault, because if I was a fat and out-of-condition scientist used to sitting behind a desk I would have brought my car and we could almost be back at my apartment. Where’s a taxi when you need one?” McKay yelled. He spun in a circle and then turned to stare at Carson. “What do you mean? Could my brain have fried?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Rodney.”

“We need a cab.” Sheppard pointed back to the main road. “That way.”

“Actually, if you wait a moment.” Carson raised his hand. He stuck two fingers in his mouth, whistled piercingly and waved his other hand.

“That only works in New York, Carson,” McKay said snidely.

The engine of a low slung, black sedan at the far end of the alley turned over with a well-tuned roar.

“That’s probably the enemy!” McKay shrieked.

“Calm the fuck down, Rodney,” Sheppard barked. “Who are they, Doc?”

Carson gestured at the car, waving his arm in a long swoop, to indicate that the vehicle should draw up at their side.

“They’re my bodyguards.”

“What!” McKay splurted. “You rate a bodyguard? How? Where are mine?”

“They were assigned when I went home to Scotland. Rodney, you’ve probably got some assigned somewhere. I can make weapons of mass destruction with just my trusty laptop and my medical case.” He sagged, a bit sort of grey and diminished.

“I can kill you with my brain!”

Carson and Sheppard looked at Rodney sadly, the latter’s face pinched. “That’s just pathetic, McKay.”

“Okay, okay, I could blow up a solar system if I put my mind to it.”

The car pulled to a halt and the side window of the sedan rolled down. “What’s the matter, Doc?” The occupant was a middle aged man, who despite the evening’s waning light wore dark aviator glasses.

“Malcolm, you need to get us to Dr. McKay’s house, asap.” Carson pulled open the back door and jumped back as Rodney threw himself in. Sheppard followed, slipping over the seat to take the middle position.

“We need to move. My house, now! You know where it is?” McKay pointed between the two front seats through the windshield. His finger jabbed impatiently. “It’s an emergency.”

Carson squeezed in next, barely having time to get settled before the driver responded to the urgency in McKay’s voice.

They screeched down the alley leaving a trail of black rubber.

“Do we need to call control, Dr. Beckett?” Malcolm asked.

Carson looked to Sheppard; while they were concerned, did they have anything other than vague feelings and guesses?

“Is there a unit on Dr. McKay’s house?” Sheppard asked.

“No, sir.” Malcolm’s partner turned in his seat and pointed out the back window. A large, newly registered SUV peeled away from the side of the road, following them. There was the distinctive chirrup of an ear piece. The bodyguard tapped his comm.. “Isaac, here.”

 _“What’s the problem? Why have you picked up our assignment?”_

“I don’t know, Agent Totter. Dr. Beckett’s asked us to return to Dr. McKay’s house. We don’t know why.”

McKay clicked his fingers demanding the comm.. When Isaac didn’t relinquish the ear piece, McKay simply plucked it from his ear.

“I need protection for my cousin. My identical cousin whose intellect almost matches mine, immediately. Are there bodyguards in the vicinity of my house?”

The silence spoke for them. Malcolm floored the accelerator, breaking the local speed laws.

~*~

  
Sheppard leaned forward between the front seats as they turned onto the cul-de-sac housing McKay’s little house “You got a spare weapon?” he asked.

“Sorry, sir. No.”

“Really?” Sheppard drawled.

“I’m afraid that I can’t help you, sir.”

“Pull over! Pull over!” McKay demanded imperiously. He popped open the door and was out and running before Sheppard could grab him.

“McKay, wait!” Sheppard said scrambling after him, falling head first out of the car. Stretching out his hands, he crabwalked -- hands and feet for a step -- and then found his feet and raced after McKay.

“Bugger!” Carson fumbled with his seat belt.

“Dr. Beckett, we’re assigned to your protection.” Malcolm leaned over, placing his hand between Carson and the door.

“Get out of my way, son.” Carson pushed up his arm and shuffled out of the car. He raced up the short path to the front door.

Rodney was fumbling with his set of house keys, flicking through them, eyes wide -- hunting for his front door key.

Sheppard snatched them off him. “Which one, McKay?”

“The Yale.”

Sheppard found it and inserted it in the lock as Carson joined them on the front step. The door opened both Rodney and Sheppard barrelled through together. The room was quiet; the television dark and the curtains pulled shut.

“Grant!” Rodney scanned his cluttered, book filled front room. “Grant!”

“Dr. Beckett?” The older of Carson’s bodyguards stood in the doorway. “Kindly come with us.”

“Lad.” Carson pointed at the door leading off from the back of the front room. “Go check the kitchen.”

Rodney moved, kicking an abandoned pizza box to fly across the floor, intent on the staircase on the far side of the room. Carson and Sheppard followed on Rodney’s heels. They pounded up the stairs, the wooden balustrade shaking. The staircase turned sharply up to the second landing. Rodney took the last four steps in one leap and ran along the short landing. He shouldered through the plywood door at the end of the short corridor into Grant’s bedroom. It banged into the wall, thudding into the sheetrock wall.

Rodney came to a complete and abrupt halt, Carson and Sheppard pushed up hard against his back. Their breath sounded harshly in the small bedroom.

Grant sat up in his nest of pillows and quilts, rubbing his face tiredly. The nightlight beside his bed set amber shadows across his face. “Rodney?”

“Oh…” Rodney sagged.

“Thank god,” Carson intoned.

“Hey, Squirrel.” Sheppard smiled. “We just thought that we’d check on you.”

Grant tucked his head down, so he could look at them through veiled eyelashes, never quite meeting their gaze. “That’s nice. Did you have a nice evening?”

“Lovely,” Carson managed. “We went to Rodney’s favourite restaurant. We missed you.”

“Oh, damn it!” Rodney surged forwards. “Come here.”

Grant opened his arms and folded his cousin in.

 _fin_   



End file.
